


I Have a Name

by MikAh



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hydra, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikAh/pseuds/MikAh
Summary: “Coffee,” Tony declares.( Because he has a name now, Tony, and the Asset hates it. Hates that one day the Mechanic went off on a mission and came back with a glowing hole in his chest and a name. )





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> None of these are in order, but I like to think they aren't too confusing? Really this is just built off an RP prompt that no one ever took interest in.

“Coffee,” Tony declares.

( Because he has a name now, Tony, and the Asset hates it. Hates that one day the Mechanic went off on a mission and came back with a glowing hole in his chest and a name. ) 

He waits for a follow up, an explanation, but none comes. That isn't unusual either. Tony is full of words even straight after a wipe, when his mind should be most blank. He knows too much and never stops talking, even when it would be best if he did. Sometimes he doesn't stop rambling for days, words blurring together, scraps of different languages, frayed ideas all coalescing into a messy blob that the Asset can't understand. The words never taper off, conversation never dies naturally. It ends abruptly. Choked. There one moment and gone the next. If he had to guess, he'd say that sometimes even Tony forgets how to shape words and these sudden silences are the end result. 

So he sits silently, piecing together what his companion means. Coffee? He knows what it is, knows they aren't supposed to have it. The wipes take away the ability to speak, make choices seem impossible and idle chatter ridiculous. But they don't take away the understanding of what's being said – if they did, what use would they be? If each time they were to reteach him their language – coffee, apple, book – he'd never get anything done. And if they tried to reteach Tony how to build and create and maim? They'd never succeed. So, distantly, he understands what coffee is. He just doesn't understand why Tony would bring it up. 

The Asset searches his memory, finds unimportant, but unforgotten details and sets them in place next to the word. There had been a tech earlier, waking Tony up, testing his reflexes with a bored expression and a styrofoam cup in her hand. Tony had hung on to her every word, given the appropriate responses, behaved for once instead of coming out snapping and swinging. It had been unusual, but he'd chalked it up to the woman herself. If there is one thing in common between the Mechanic and Tony is that they both have an eye for beauty. Shallow and strange, but he listens better that way and their handlers have no complaints. But maybe, this time, it had been the cup and not the tech. 

When he looks over Tony's eyes are lit up in that self-satisfied way that scares him. He wants, violently, to blind him before someone catches him and then gets frustrated for wanting at all. Sometimes he manages to express that, but not today. Today he just scowls and watches as Tony's smirk grows. 

“I want coffee,” Tony expands, taking great delight in drawing out that stupid little word. 

“You don't want anything,” he manages to correct, turning away. His partner's behavior would drive him nuts, if he was allowed to be annoyed. Might worry him, if such an emotion was left behind. Instead it's just background noise and a chance to project his loyalty to their handlers who are surely listening in. 

Between the two of them? Tony is smarter. He can look at a situation and see things so far beyond the Asset that he's worth keeping around. The weapons he builds are sickeningly effective; lethal, clean kills with no hesitation. And yet he takes sheer delight in riling up their handlers until they beat him over and over again. How he manages to keep such fight in him the Asset isn't sure. From what he can tell, Tony has been with him nearly twenty years. Maybe it takes seventy to finally give in. 

“Sure I do, Snowball,” comes the response, easy and natural. Like they're two old friends, two people sitting around swapping stories instead of a pair of puppets waiting for their next show. “I want coffee, I want, hmm, a donut? I want to get out of this cold, I want to fucking-.” 

He cuts himself off again, face going blank, mouth a thin line. The Asset follows his gaze, spots the target, and raises his rifle. At least here there is a break, a purposeful silence instead of a lost train of thought. Neither Tony nor the Mechanic ever jeopardizes a mission, not since the first time.


	2. A Hole in His Chest and a Name in His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mechanic is thinner than the last time they met. The scar that curls down over his cheekbone to his mouth is still there, healed, but agitated as if rubbed raw. His fingernails are broken, his eyes wide with purple slashes beneath, and his chest.. A pulsing red glow, an embedded circle of red light half covered by fresh bandages. The smell is enough to warn him of infection and maybe that is why the Mechanic can't seem to stop trembling.

“Tony, Tony, my name is Tony.” The Mechanic is muttering it frantically, too fast, words tripping and stumbling into nonsense. 

It's been nearly three months since the last time they've seen one another. The Asset only knows because they've kept him off ice and away from the chair – a rarity that he doesn't question. In that time he hasn't forgotten about his partner, but he doesn't ask, not even when the tech who works on his arm fumbles and takes twice as long for maintenance. It isn't his place to question, isn't his place to even have curiosity, although now? Something similar to the feeling is growing within him.

The Mechanic is thinner than the last time they met. The scar that curls down over his cheekbone to his mouth is still there, healed, but agitated as if rubbed raw. His fingernails are broken, his eyes wide with purple slashes beneath, and his chest.. A pulsing red glow, an embedded circle of red light half covered by fresh bandages. The smell is enough to warn him of infection and maybe that is why the Mechanic can't seem to stop trembling. 

He draws near, infatuated by the monstrosity. The Mechanic's head snaps up, clever fingers splayed over the light, breath wheezing out in little puffs that aren't helping anyone. The Asset crouches, expression serious, yet voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“You are the Mechanic. You work for Hydra.” He pauses, waits to be mimicked, and continues only once his companion spits out the words. “You have no other name.” 

//

Later, when the Mechanic is put back together, chest cleared of rot and light beaming strong, he's taken away to the chair and shocked longer than before. When they see one another again the cat-like ease his companion carries is tainted by an anxious aura, tight eyes, and self-aware jokes that leave him black and blue. He takes to tapping the thing in his chest, unable to stay still. And, when they're alone, he whispers.

“Tony, my name is Tony.”


	3. Fake It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tones,” The nickname is watery, choked up and he realises he should probably cry too. It'll be more authentic that way, make Rhodey feel better, make him want to stay. So he wills tears to his eyes, keeps them nice and misty for effect and is rewarded with a hand on his cheek when they pull away.

“I'm a little busy right now,” Tony declares, kicking himself away from his desk. He doesn't stop his chair from spinning, though, bringing him face to face with his newest intruder. No doubt a well meaning “Avenger” or one of the employees Howard keeps around. 

“Sorry,” The person apologizes. A man, taller than him – not hard -, with a nervous smile and shaking hands. “James, James Rho-” 

“Rhodey,” Tony breathes. And for a moment there's the sour taste of vodka and vomit on his tongue, a warm, broad hand on his back. There's scratchy dorm sheets on his face and the sound of laughter half-muffled in the middle of the night. He's standing before he realises it, crossing what little distance they have to throw his arms around the man, Rhodey, his best friend. 

There's no flinch, which Tony appreciates, though there is an awkward beat of stiffness before Rhodey reciprocates. And then.. He figures this is what people mean when they say it feels like “home”. Because even though he barely remembers this, can't even pinpoint the last time he hugged someone, he feels safe. Like when he's out in the field and the Soldier has his back. 

“Tones,” The nickname is watery, choked up and he realises he should probably cry too. It'll be more authentic that way, make Rhodey feel better, make him want to stay. So he wills tears to his eyes, keeps them nice and misty for effect and is rewarded with a hand on his cheek when they pull away. 

“Hey, honeybear. Miss me?” 

The nicknames are crucial, he learned that a long time ago. Videos and articles and personal recounts solidify what he already subconsciously knows. Tony Stark likes nicknames, enjoys teasing people. He's confident in his intelligence and status and has a quip for everything. By the way Rhodey's eyes soften further he knows he's picked the right words. 

“I thought you were dead,” Rhodey blurts out before he's hugging again. A little too tight, making his chest protest, but he keeps his mouth shut. “I thought..” Rhodey's voice lowers, wobbly and painful, “I thought you killed yourself.” 

Oh. That's new. Had he wanted to die before? The press only supplies the picture of a party boy, not one feeling particularly low. There's a mention of an overdose that's quickly swept under the rug and some complaints about his sexual history. Howard says he was brilliant, a rising star, Maria.. Says little that can be made sense of through tears. Yinsen could say only little before it was too much to bear, Pepper... He keeps her at an arm's length now. She sees too much. 

“Nah, just decided to do a little internship with Hydra.” He shoots back, “Unpaid, can you believe that? So much for name dropping.”


	4. Gorge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warning for binge eating. I wanted to expand on this and detail Tony's ( and by association, Bucky's ) eating problems, but I just haven't had time. Maybe in the future. For now it's just a tiny little thought I'll come back to.

The Soldier – Bucky, he reminds himself – doesn't eat. At least, he forgets to on a daily basis, has to be reminded near constantly. Tony supposes it's much like a wild animal, fed too often by humans and unable to forage any longer. He waits until he's fed and doesn't complain once if he's hungry. He doesn't demand, doesn't try for seconds, doesn't even put food in his mouth until Rogers uses his damn puppy dog eyes. 

Tony doesn't stop eating. In the first week he's conscious and coherent they have pizza three times, oatmeal near daily, Thai, Indian, and Italian once. He does well in front of the others, eats until he's full and is mindful of his stomach's limitations. When he's alone he gorges himself. Boxes of donuts, plastic packets of ramen. Ice cream and french fries and an entire block of cheese. Very rarely can he keep it down and that only frustrates him more. 

He keeps an endless supply of snacks in the lab and living areas, dried fruit and cans of ravioli he eats cold. Rhodey brings chips when he visits, Pepper brings crackers. He adores smoothies, loves the excuse of his health as a reason to keep them in hand wherever they go.


	5. What's Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thinking about anything good?” Rhodey has a hand running through his hair and usually that knocks him right out, but the day has been long and his brain won't shut up. “Is it me? Can't say I'm up for round 2 right away, but if you give me a few minutes..” 
> 
> Tony grins, catches him in a kiss because he can and he likes that sometimes. That he doesn't really have a clear objective anymore. He can just eat a dozen donuts or kiss James Rhodes and if anyone doesn't like it then he can kill them with no paperwork involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vagueish mentions of sex in this one, but not a full written scene.

Rhodes is slamming into him, punching out little breathy grunts with each movement, Tony's legs hooked over his arms, toes curled with pleasure. Gone is the shakiness from before, the hesitant, tender “love-making” that made his skin crawl. This? This he understands. Hydra didn't fuck him, he wasn't a toy, he was a weapon, an asset. But this kind of energy is the same exhilaration as a good explosion or a perfectly timed escape. He'd never been treated like something delicate before. He's used to his strength being recognized and if this is the only time that Rhodes will acknowledge it he'll take what he can get. 

He allows himself to be vocal and responsive, howling and scratching and meeting each thrust. The first time they'd fucked Rhodey had stared, seemingly aghast, at the vicious claw-marks and blossoming bruises that Tony had left on him. In that split second he'd been sure that was the end of it all. But eventually that lost expression had shifted into a creaky smile and an off-color comment about marking his territory and so now he doesn't bother to try and stop. Sometimes it feels like this is the only time he can really be himself, even if that “self” is most likely just a reflection of what Hydra made him. 

He's sticky and sated and wheezing embarrassingly loud when they're done. To his credit, Rhodes doesn't comment on that either, just passes him his inhaler and helps him clean up. Though tender sex isn't something that he can stomach he does enjoy the aftercare. Rhodey never leaves unless he's asked and he always holds and pets him, tells him he's wonderful or just talks shit about their day. There's a piece of him that had been missing throughout Hydra and Tony's pretty sure it was named James Rhodes. 

“Thinking about anything good?” Rhodey has a hand running through his hair and usually that knocks him right out, but the day has been long and his brain won't shut up. “Is it me? Can't say I'm up for round 2 right away, but if you give me a few minutes..” 

Tony grins, catches him in a kiss because he can and he likes that sometimes. That he doesn't really have a clear objective anymore. He can just eat a dozen donuts or kiss James Rhodes and if anyone doesn't like it then he can kill them with no paperwork involved. 

“It's a surprise,” He insists, pressing his face against Rhodes' neck. It's really too hot to be clinging to each other, skin rubbing in a way that's more uncomfortable than attractive, but he doesn't really care. “But I think you're going to like it.” 

“I like all of your surprises,” Rhodey lies, then snorts at himself. “Okay, I like most of them.” 

“It's a present,” Tony breathes, half-muffled. It brings a smirk to his face when Rhodey pauses out of surprise. He's not dumb, he knows he's possessive. Barnes is really the only one that can get him to share after a lifetime of being denied everything he wants. But Rhodes is special and his newest toy is something that they can both take delight in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a suit, not sex toys.


End file.
